


The Men of the Fallen Cross

by PickledGuava



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirates of the Caribbean Fusion, Colonialism, Explicit Language, M/M, Name Changes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Referenced/Implied Period-Typical Racism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:22:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24241993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PickledGuava/pseuds/PickledGuava
Summary: Gunsmith Julio Esteban Richter hated his life but expected nothing better. Then one night he comes upon a wounded British sailor and everything changes.
Relationships: Julio Richter/Shatterstar
Comments: 24
Kudos: 17





	1. The Soldier on the Waves

“- And I’m _saying_ , this is horrendous craftsmanship!” The “client” sneered back, waving around _their_ pistol as if he, who hadn’t payed, already owned it. Julio was furious. This _pinche pendejo._ As _if_ he’d know good craftsmanship if it slapped him across the face. He was just here to cause a scene, another jealous _cabrón_ trying to vie for their contract with the armada despite not being able to build so much as a straight piece of pipe. 

These fucking _criollo_ bastards showed up at least once a week, always with some new gimmick, some new complaint to try to shut them down or steal their formulas. They were the reason why nothing was allowed to be written down around here, and _everything_ memorized by heart. One slip up and the whole family would loose their livelihood. Julio hated how precarious their position was, how it kept opening them up to this kind of fucking abuse, but there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. Colonial New Spain was structured to keep people like him and his family down, so even when every _pendejo_ in the colony decided to take advantage and try to threaten their limited fortunes, the Richters could grin and bear it.

“Stay in line,” his father had always said. “That’s how we keep doing this. That’s how we keep our family safe. We do our jobs and we stay in line.”

So Julio did. He grit his teeth and fake smiled at the _hijo de puta_ even as he _yearned_ to strangle him as he snatched his gun back. “Then build something better, you _inutil de mierda._ ” They’ve endured this enough times that one of his cousins had already pulled open the smithy doors, giving Julio a direct exit to aim at as he shoved the man out with a growl before they slammed the door in his face. Julio would've really have liked to punch the guy in the jaw, but for the sake of everyone here, he _stayed in line._

“Alright back to work!” He yelled angrilly as he slammed the gun down on the nearest table - someone else with a cooler head could put it back where the _hijo de puta_ found it. He then stomped out the back door of the smithy, cousins Omar and Rodriguez in tow as he marched down to the docks to pick up the shipments of ore he was supposed be bartering for before that _cabrón_ showed up and wasted their time. 

The there was a crowd at the habour this afternoon as people gathered to point and awe at what looked be a small flame on the horizon. Somebody’s ship had been set ablaze. Too bad for them. Julio didn’t care and barely spared a glace at the smoking point on the water before marching over to his seller. Thankfully, nobody had managed to bid off their haul yet. Then, after a big of haggling, physical labour, and more ordering cousins around, Julio was finally done for the day. He stomped back home, which was really just upstairs of the large family smithy, claimed a bottle of rum, then passed out. 

When Julio woke up again it was well into the night. Feeling less pissed and fucking exhausted, he grabbed the remainder of his rum and dragged himself into the kitchen to claim his share of dinner. It was mercifully still on the counter and _mostly_ still intact. Less mercifully though was the fact that his father was also there, idly cleaning out a rifle. Julio grimmaced.

“I stayed completely in line today,” he said immediately, snagging his enmoladas before his old man could stop him. 

“I know you did,” Louis replied without even looking at him. “But you allowed yourself to get too emotional again and now the ores you picked up are of lesser quality.”

“That’s a load of crap!” Just because Julio was angry did not mean he didn’t _check._ He _always_ checked. “Those were the best veins in the whole lot and you know it!”

“And there he goes again.” Louis still hadn’t deigned to look at him “One of these days Julio, that temper of yours is going to land you in serious trouble. You know your own history. I should not have to keep telling you.” Julio clenched his teeth and glared at the back of his old man head. There wasn’t anything he could say that they haven’t already argued over a hundreds times before though, so he just gripped his plate and stalked back out of the kitchen.

The Richter smithy, for the convenience of their primary client, the Armada of Canaán stationed in Veracruz, was situated by the harbour. They weren’t quite at where the ports were, but the yard behind their workshop connected directly to the rocky outcrops onto which the waves of the coastal waters crashed. Julio preferred to be on land, but he did enjoy the smell of the ocean’s salty sprays and the rhythmic sighing and pounding of the waves. When he didn’t want to deal with anyone, like tonight, he often came here to think, tinker, or just drink and eat like he was doing now.

A small part of him always wondered what it’d be like it to sail out there, free on the waves, but a short trip on a transport ship when he was fourteen had rid him of that particular fantasy. He’d gotten pathetically seasick, made worse by his nervousness about being so far from shore. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to swim. The ocean was so ridiculously _deep_ nd unforgiving that Julio knew it didn’t matter. The oceans could never offer the steady comfort that land gave.

Just as he was finishing up his last enmolada, something caught his eye. A bright splotch of, of _something_ , floating in from the dark waters. He squinted at it for moment before swearing and dropping his plate. It was a _person._

Before he could stop himself, Julio was scrambling down the craggy rockface towards the drifting figure, prone and motionless, barely clinging onto a large slad of drift wood. It had to be someone from the ship that was ablaze this afternoon. They were lucky to be alive.

The man was large and the waves licking at him unforgiving, but with after a momentary struggle, Julio managed to pull him from the driftwood and up onto a slab of rock that was out of the water. Relieved when he felt the man still breathing, Julio turned the man over, and that’s when he noticed two things. The first was that the man was exceptionally beautiful. He was young and sturdy looking with rivulets of long flaming red hair that still seemed to glow against his pale skin despite the darkness. The second was that the man was wearing a uniform of the British Navy. Not just that, but he had a very distinct star shaped mark over his left eye. _Shit._

_Shit shit shit._

People with strange markings on their face, especially if they also did things that were noteworthy, often had stories told about them, and this man most certainly was not exception. In his arms, Julio was holding none other than Lieutenant Gaveedra Septimus, the youngest and most fearsome lieutanant out of the entirety of Britain's Royal Navy. _Shit._

He had just saved one of Spain’s most dangerous enemies. And now, now…now Julio didn’t know what to do. The obvious thing would’ve been to leave him to die, throw him back to the ocean and let the waves and rocks take care of it. Cause that fire this afternoon? It just had to have been caused by Canaán Armada. This man most certainy was supposed to be dead. But, but…

Julio couldn’t do it. For some strange and fucking unfathomable reason, he couldn’t bring himself to throw this beautiful man back to the fate New Spain had dealt to him. Instead, Julio found himself peeling off the jacket of Septimus’ uniform, discarding it, wrapping up his left eye with a piece of torn off shirt, and hauling the lieutenant back up the rockface while inwardly cursing himself. _The fuck are you doing, you cabrón?! You’re going to get yourself killed! You’re going to get **everyone** killed!_ And yet Julio kept going. He hauled and carried and lugged the larger man all the way home until he was safely stowed away in his room.

And now Lieutenant Gaveedra Septimus was sprawled out, coatless, on his bed. Julio dragged a hand over his face as he tried to calm his breath. _Madre de Dios, what have I done?_ This was insane. This was actually, _literally_ the stupidest thing he’s ever done in his life. What was he even going to _do_ with this man now?

Then, under the pale light of the moon, he noticed something else. There, on Septimus’ chest, peeking out from under his shirt, was a silver medallion. Julio stepped closer and pulled the medallion out into his palm. It wasn’t not just any medallion. It was a _pirate’s_ medallion, and one who’s symbol he recognized. On the medallion’s face was a set of crossbones without a skull, the sigil of the Men of the Fallen Cross, the most organized and deadly fleet, yes _fleet,_ of pirates this side of the Atlantic. Julio ran his thumb over the embossed “X” symbol and looked down at Septimus again. “Just who exactly _are_ you?”


	2. The Scapegoat

Eventually Julio managed to calm down and make a decision. He was going to wait for this man to wake up first, then he'll interrogate him, and _then_ make a decision on what to do. Ok, so maybe his decision wasn't _actually_ a decision, but it was the best he’s got at the moment ok?

Julio started by checking the still unconcious Septimus for any serious injuries. The guy was littered with cuts and bruises, but despite a few of the cuts being deep, he'd mostly stopped bleeding already and nothing looked too serious. Oddly enough though, the deep looking cutes were all jagged - not like the clean split of a sword slash, almost as if the lieutenant sustain most of his injuries after the battle. But that was not his job to question, so Julio turned his thoughts back to how he could patch the man up, to prevent anything from getting infected if nothing else. He trussed the lieutenant up to a bed post (better to be safe than sorry) and went to fetch the medical supplies.

Thankfully, by this hour, even the old man had gone to bed, so Julio was able to help himself to everything he needed inside their medicine cabinet without arousing suspicion. Grabbing the suturing materials, some fresh bandages, a wash cloth, and basin of clean water, Julio made his way back to his room, then proceeded to nearly drop _everything._

Septimus was sitting up on his bed, cooling rolling his wrists, already having completely freed himself of his binds and removed the covering over his left eye. _Shit._

They just stared at each other awkwardly for a moment, Septimus’ eyes darting down to his medical supplies then back up at him. Julio didn't realize he was holding his breath until the lieutenant spoke. “What are your intentions?”

The young gunsmith gaped stupidly for another moment before croaking out incredulously. “You speak Spanish?”

“Si.”

Well alright, that, that made things easier, maybe, if Septimus doesn't just straight up _kill him_ right there. Despite the sudden threat of imminent death though, Julio couldn’t stop noticing just how handsome Septimus was. The lieutenant's left eye was whited out, probably from cataracts, but his right eye was a clear azure blue and both eyes were focused on him with such an intensity that it felt like Julio was being struck by a riptide. It made his mouth go oddly very dry.

“Alright then,” Julio returned, slowly moving to set down the water basin and medical supplies on a small dresser before holding up his hands, palms open. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he explained, continuing in Spanish because he didn't quite have enough wits about him to attempt English at the moment. “I'm just looking to treat your wounds.”

“You tied me up,” Septimus replied frankly, accusing. 

“Well yeah, you’re -” He gestured vaguely at Septimus’ person. “- I know who you are. Forgive me for not wanting to get cut to pieces trying to treat you.” That was only partly true, but Septimus seemed to accept his answer.

“Are you going to turn me in?”

“And get my own lead lopped off for trying to help you first?" Julio snorted. "I don’t think so.” Alright, so he wasn’t about to turn Septimus in apparently, but Julio still didn’t know what he _was_ going to do with him. Aside from what he had planned for the present anyways. That much, he could settle on without conflict.

With a mutual nod of agreement, Julio reached for the remainder of his bottle of rum and pulled over a small table where he set up all his equipment. Helpfully, Septimus even shrugged off his own damp shirt while he did so. Julio tried not to stare. He splashed rum over Septimus' open wounds - the sea water had already done more of the cleaning and disinfecting work, but it never hurt to be safe. Julio then washed his hands and proceeded to thread some catgut through a needle before getting to work on the liuetenant's deeper cuts. Septimus, to his credit, did't so much as flinch.

“So uh, that pirate’s a medallion you got,” Julio ventured bravely, if not a little stupidly, “What’s it for? Doesn’t seem like standard British Naval issue.” Septimus tensed, then looked down at where the thing still hung over his chest.

“Private business,” he returned gruffly.  
  
"Right, right." Julio chewed his lip. He didn't ask again, though some of the pieces to this mystery of a man was starting to come together. If he was carrying such an obvious symbol of treason on his person, maybe it shouldn't've been that surprising that he survived while the rest of his ship sank. Not that Julio was going to try to confirm his theory. He didn't want to accidentally wind up with his neck snapped for asking the wrong question. There was a long moment of stiff silence before he tried again. "Well, you uh...you have my sympathies for happened to your ship." Septimus gave no response at first and when Julio looked back up, the lieutenant had a strange look on his face, like he was checking Julio for deceit. Then Septimus turned away and simply said,

"There's no need to apologize." A beat of a pause passed, then he added, "What're you planning to do after you've finished stitching my wounds?"

 _Ha!_ Well, wasn't that just the question of the night. Julio paused and looked up at him again, and for a moment their gazes were locked as they both tried to stare out the answers they couldn't ask for. On his end, Julio got nothing. He couldn't read Septimus at all. But despite the continued intensity of Septimus' gaze, Julio realized that he wasn't scared anymore. There was in fact, an odd sense of _understanding_ that passed between them before he broke away.  
  
"I don't know," Julio admitted. “I was really tempted to just leave you to smash to pieces against the reef actually, but here we are." He pressed his lips into a thin line and went back to stitching.

There was another long moment of awkward silence, then Septimus said, "I'm sorry to have put you into such a precarious position." The ridiculousness of those words coming from _that_ man's mouth nearly made Julio laugh, but the gunsmith focused resolutely on finishing up his sutures. "I will leave as soon as you're done."

For some reason, this particular statement from the lieutenant caused a flash of anger to course through Julio and he immeidately turned to glare up at Septimus. "And pull out all the stitches I just spent the last half-hour working on for you? Don't even _think_ about it." It wasn't until he saw Septimus' quirked eyebrow that the gunsmith realized what he'd just done. _Mierda._ He just threatened New England's deadliest killer right to his _face_. Shit. And yet, _and yet_ , Septimus made no move to harm him. In fact, the lieutenant seemed slightly _amused._

"Then I will stay here until I am healed," the lieutenant responded with a slight quirk of his lips. It made Julio suddenly _really_ want to see him smiling. "I assume that you're not the sole resident of this place, so I will do my best keep myself from being discovered in the meantime. Is that satisfactory?" They stared at each other again, but unlike before, that intensity from Septimus' gaze softened into something that just felt... _warm_ , and a gentle sense of something akin to trust passed between them.

"I suppose," Julio agreed a little dumbly, ducking his gaze back down again to knot up the last suture and pack up his equipment. He wet his hands and toweled them dry. "Alright."

A large part of him still couldn't believe that this dumb and ridiculous night was happening, but Julio did his best to accept his situation and everything that's transpired as he left to put the suturing supplies back, taking time to also grab a spare mat and blankets, leaving Septimus the wash basin to clean up in the meanwhile. He couldn't ask an injured man to sleep on the floor, and there was _no way_ he was going to share a bed an infamous killer, so toughing it out on the floor himself it was. Septimus said nothing else when he returned to bandage him up and supply him with a change of clothes. Then they both just silently climbed into their beds and that was it. When Julio woke the next morning, he would've sworn that none of it happened, had it not been for the beautiful redhead still sleeping soundly in his bed.

What a night it he had.

Deciding that the poor man was probably exhausted, Julio let him be, shutting his room's door carefully behind him before making his way back downstairs, ready to commence yet another day despite the nonsense and the aching in his _everywhere._ Sleeping on the floor after a dramatic night did not do his body any kindness. In addition, he was so thrown by yesterday's events that he didn't even notice the decidely glum and nervous atmosphere about the house until he was halfway through his breakfast.

When finally did, he put his fork down. "Alright, what's gotten into all you _tontos_ today?" That earned him a bunch of incredulous stares and irritated glares.

"This _cabrón_ slept in again," cousin Omar accused, jabbing a thumb at him before even looking at him. Julio rolled his eyes, but his snark retort was cut off by his stepmother as he was whacked upside the head.

"What's gotten into _us?_ The a _dmiral_ is visiting tonight!" Julio failed to see how that was upsetting.

"So? It's not the first time the admiral's visited us." His stepmother groused and he got another smack to his noggin.

"Pay more attention to things!" She wagged a finger at him. "The cargo ships of the admiral's convoy sunk yesterday." _Wait what?_ The stupid look on his face must've been glaring like a beacon because Maria raised her hand in a threat of smacking him again. He had the smarts to flinch away and act apologetic this time.

"The fire in the bay you lug! Those were our cargo ships to Spain! Burned down by the British! In _our_ waters Julio!" Ooooooh. Oh Shit. _Mierda,_ that was not good. The admiral must be so pissed.

Admiral Caos Veranos of the Canaán Armada was not someone you wanted to cross. Ruthless and ambitious, Veranos was the was the current leading force behind Spain's entrenched hold on Veracruz and the reason the waters of New Spain acted like a deathtrap to pirates and all other enemies alike. Even the likes of the Men of the Fallen Cross seldom dared to pass through here. In addition, on land and in water, Veranos was cruel and _completely_ intorlerant of failure. If he had a bad day of any kind, _everyone_ in his vicinity suffered, earning him the moniker of _El Contienda_. To have Veranos come see them so soon after such a massive defeat did not bode well for the Richter family at all.

For the rest of the day, despite no one being able to come up with a just cause for _El Contienda_ taking issue with them, everyone was grim and on edge. Even Septimus picked up on the mood when Julio snuck food to him, and though Julio hadn't even said a word. By the time evening had come around, most of Julio's cousins had already been sent away, leaving the main Richter house a quiet whisper of it's usual crowded boisterousness. Julio remained, but even he was pushed away from his normal duties to stay out of sight. Being the eldest of the family head, he was usually tasked with heading the meetings with clients, but not tonight. Tonight he was forced to watch through a hole in the wall as his father took back that role instead, accompanied only by four of his oldest uncles.

What that really set Julio's nerves on fire though, was that when Veranos arrived, he didn't look bothered at _all_. Instead he smiled, all pleasant like, and even shook hands with Julio's father. He smiled, even as he marched armed soldiers into Julio's home. Julio held his breath.

"I think you know what this meeting is about Louis," Veranos said serenely as he strolled past the front of his men. "There's been a bit of an incident."

Julio couldn't see his father's face, but he could hear the tense and careful slowness of Louis' words when he spoke. Julio's heart hammered in his chest. "I don't see how that's related to us, unless you want a quick replenishing of arms for your sailors, in which case, we'd be happy to oblige as always."

Veranos' smile turned sharp, hackle raising. "I think we both know it's not going to be so simple this time."

He then casually started to walking back through his line of men. "You see, such a huge disasater, it could _only_ be the cause of faulty equipment. And my men really just couldn't rely on our canons and guns and canons this time. So I'm afraid Louis, that my hands are tied." Then, before Julio could so much as _breathe_ , five gunshots rang out and five bodies with bleeding skulls dropped to the floor.


	3. A Compass Pointing Nowhere

No! No no no no no no no no...

Julio couldn't peel his eyes away, unable to believe what he'd just witnessed despite all the blood starting to pool over the floor. A part of him wanted to scream, but the sudden overwhelming terror and grief clogged up his throat. Instead he just watched numbly as Veranos started to order his people to search and clear out the house. His family had been right to send all his cousins away.

Unable to move, Julio remained rooted to the spot, conflicted between fear and this crazy, _desperate,_ desire to run into that room to shoot _El Contienda_ in the head. And he almost did when a hand clamped over his mouth and yanked him away. "Shh!" A familiar voice hissed at him as he tried to struggle, so Julio shushed and let himself get pulled away into a side room, where his stepmother finally released him to shut the door behind them. The sounds of boots thudded out in the hallways, followed by several screams and gunshots.

"Mama?" Maria looked pale as she barricaded the door and pushed him to the window, but she was still about the steadiest face he's seen since dusk.

"Take this and run," she told him, pressing a strange box into his hand followed by a belt of two pistols. "This," she tapped at the wooden box, "will guide you to safety. Now climb out that window and run as far away as you can Julio. Don't come back." She cupped his face, and that's when Julio realized he was shaking. Voices sounded outside, follow by a rattling of the door, then ramming sounds. Julio darted a desperate look between his stepmother and the window.

"What about you mama?" Maria shook her head and smiled at him. Splinters started coming off of the door.

"I'll be safe. Trust me." She then pushed him towards the window again. "That British soldier of yours will meet you in the yard. Now go!"

Bewildered, Julio suddenly wanted to demand how she knew about that, but one look at her eyes and he swallowed the question. He turned and started climbing over the ledge, then dropped himself onto the ground, grateful they were only on the second story. He heard the door back above break open as he got back to his feet, but Julio dared not look back up, just shoved the box into his pocket, slapped on the belt, and ran. A few of Veranos' men spotted him and started firing and giving chase, but Julio didn't look back, just ducked and ran erractically, trying to dodge the gunfire as he ran down the block of tightly clustered houses.  
  
Curiously though, or maybe more accurately _horrifyingly,_ when Julio was just a few yards down, the yelling suddenly turned into screams, and the gunfire turned erractic before ceasing completely. When Julio turned back around, the only figure standing was a man clad in a blood stained white shirt his long red hair blowing in the wind as two bloody stolen rapiers hung in his grip. It was Septimus. Julio didn't know whether to shout for joy or scream. He had not seen Septimus when landed and had no idea where he emerged from, there he was, in all his bloody glory, looking at Julio with a gloomy expression of someone who's seen this scene too many times.  
  
"Your family..." Septimus murmured as he walked towards Julio, who somehow lost the smart sense to walk _away,_ "...was this my fault?" Julio looked between him and the bloody swords and the bodies just a few paces away. He didn't know whether he should laugh or cry.

"It isn't your fault," he found himself saying instead. "It's..." The gunsmith closed his eyes and shuddered. "It's _El Contienda._ He would've killed my family regardless of you being here or not." Because they were his scapegoats, and nobodies to Spain, it was an easy political calculation. The results have been the same whether Septimus was here or not.

Septimus still looked forlorn. "I should've killed him," he said. "I'm sorry."

Now _that_ made Julio laugh. It was a hysterical, cold laugh that held nothing but pain. "No." He said after he'd finally calmed down. "That's not your job." He then narrowed his eyes as more shouts started gathering in their direction. "It's mine."

Septimus still looked like he wanted to argue, but Julio grabbed him by the wrist and pulled them both back into a run. Revenge will have to come later, when he wasn't outnumbered and outmatched. He'll find a way to get stronger, get people behind him, _then_ he'll come back and put a bullet between _El Contienda's_ eyes himself. It was all he could think about to keep his feet moving. To keep himself from breaking down and just _screaming._ Septimus thankfully, had no other comments to offer.

They ran and dodged and ducked and volted. It was all a mad scramble that Julio could barely be fully cognizant of as he tried to evade the Amarda while leading Septimus out of town. He was honestly grateful for the other man's company then, not just for his quick thinking and assistance in their escape, but also just for his presence. It was nice to not have to suffer the terror of the night along. When they finally managed to turn a corner and hide for a moment, Septimus pulled his wrist away from Julio's grip and sighed. "I know you didn't blame me, but this is still entirely my fault." Julio rasied an eyebrow at him, but didn't comment.  
  
"The Armada are chasing you and hurting your family because I abandoned my position." He shut his eyes for a moment, his expression pained and mornful. "As you know, my fleet had the advantage in power. We won, but we could've had a more decisive if I did not desert my people. If we had successfully taken _El Contienda_ , your family wouldn't have had to suffer." Julio was quite as he listened, but he gave no response of surprise. Honestly, he had figured as much as he patched up Septimus' wounds. But as much as it would've been convenient to hate the man, Julio did not, _could_ not bring himself to. The blame was a stretch and an unfair one at that. And Julio believed there was more to the story. 

So instead he asked, "Why did you desert?"

Septimus' looked forlorn, but he answered without hestiation, "Because my crew and country were too cruel for me to serve any longer."

"Oh." It made sense. But it still wrung a sympathetic nod from him. He looked up and smiled at Septimus. "Well, then if it helps, I still don't blame you. You were just trying to do what you thought was right, trying to escape from evil. And there's no way you could've predicted what _El Contienda_ would do. No one can fault you for that."

Septimus turned back to him, and smiled, his eyes slowly shifting into that fierce unrelenting fire he saw when they first met again. "Evil is a good word for it. Because they reall are, all evil." He paused his expression went dark again. "I did not earn my reputation by myself you know." Julio swallowed as he wearily awaited the inevitable harrowing tale to follow. It was nice that the lieutenant was sharing his story, but Julio wasn't quite sure he was up to stomaching it. "Those that made me into this weapon, they have had me kill more than just their enemies in battle. My swords have cut down the innocent and guilty alike, sometimes merely to keep me in line. I've lost count of how many lives extinguished by my hand. When I finally came to, I could - _can_ no longer distinguish myself from a monster. I became a mere instrument of _oppression_." A tear rolled down his cheek and he let out a single shuttering breath. Julio reach over and squeezed his shoulder sympathetically, not sure what to say. 

He had never thought deeply about Septimus' story before. Now, he was forced to think back to how he'd listened to those stories with a half mind of care, never truly processing their greater context. He remembered how often he'd gotten angry about how his family was stuck making weapons for people who treated them like dirt to step on. Weapons for people who used them to hurt people who looked exactly like him. He thought about how often he'd wanted to just scream at the unjustice and blow everything sky high. He thought he had it all figured out, that he could see the entire picture. But clearly, he had not. For now though, hopefully it would be enough that he understood. That he too resonated with that need to resist.

They said nothing else for a while after that. Julio just nodded solemnly at Septimus and they silently hurried onwards into the night.

Things became almost rhytmically efficient for them after that. Julio found them their exits and Septimus cut down anyone who caught up to them. He was so efficient Julio never even need to _draw._ And like that, they eventually made their out of the armada's reach to the edge of town. There, they finally got a moment to catch their breaths and Julio pulled the strange box this stepmother had given him.  
  
"It's supposed to guide me to safety," he explained lamely as Septimus gave him a puzzled look. He flipped it open a stared confusedly at the spinning compass. There were no direction markers on it and it did not still. Well, _that_ wasn't helpful.

"Maybe it's broken," Septimud ventured. Julio shook his head.

"No. My mama would never give me something broken. It has to work differently." He turned the compass around carefully in his hands but saw no other attachments, compartments, or engravements. It was truly strange.

Deciding that they didn't have time to figure this out, he stowed the compass back away in his pocket and followed Septimus' lead as the Brit stole a horse and rode them out of town. Julio didn't know how to ride, so he just did his best to cling onto the lieutenant while trying not to get his balls trotted off. They rode all night. It wasn't until daybreak that they dared to slow, and it wasn't till a little after that they wandered into a small fishing village, completely exhausted. The Isla del Carman was also a military post, but it was a relatively small one with a Sergeant who was mercifully not on great terms with _El Contineda_. News of what happened in Veracruz likely hadn't reached here yet, so the pair made few efforts to hide themselves as they staggered into an inn and Julio payed for a room with the small amount of coin he had on his person. They then both passed out on the single small bed, too exhausted to care about their proximity.

When Julio woke, it was well into the afternoon. The gunsmith dragged a hand over his face and tryied not to lament his recent turn of fate. There was time for that later. Right now, survival came first.  
  
Septimus was still lightly dozing, so Julio took the initiative to discretely check at his injuries. Most of his stiches were pulled and frayed, but thankfully, nothing was torn completely and nothing looked festered. Satisfied, he left to check on their horse and scout the area. When he returned, Septimus was unsurprisingly awake again, carefully polishing his stolen rapiers with a rag he must've found somewhere.

"I've found a place we can get some food," Julio told him with a jab of thumb. Septimus nodded and rose to his feet, then slid the rapiers into his belt and followed Julio outside without a word, combing his long hair with his fingers so it covered up his left eye. It was a give or take whether the news had reached here by this point, so that was likely a smart decision.  
  
They settled in at a small family restaurant by the harbor and Julio used the last of his coin to buy them both a healthy serving of seafood tacos. The two ate in silence as Julio fiddled more with his compass. It still wouldn't stop spinning, occasionally even stopping on Septimus of all things. It was really strange.

"If you wish for us to continue to travel together, I would like to know your name," Septimus said of all a sudden, breaking him from his thoughts. Julio blinked. He'd completely forgotten to introduce himself between all the craziness, hadn't he? But implication of Septimus' question also gave him pause. _Were_ they going to keep travelling together? He hadn't even heard what Septimus wanted to do upon his dessertion, he'd just _assumed_. And what where they going to do now that they're on the run and penniless? Try to find work in village after village? Should he set up shop again somewhere? There were so many unknowns.

His train of thought was once again broken by Septimus. "Do you not wish to continue travelling together?" Julio blinked.

"Uh...I don't know. Sorry, I was just thinking about that." He'd _like_ to but did Septimus? Wait, he'd just implied he _did_ didnt he? _Mierda_ , all the craziness was starting to get to his head. "I mean, yes." He amended. "If you want. My name is Julio by the way. Julio Esteban Richter."

Septimus smiled, and _wow,_ it was just as mesmerizing and beautiful as he'd thought it'd be. "Nice to finally make your acquaintence, Julio Esteban Richter."

Julio smiled back. "Nice to finally make your acquaintence too, Gaveedra Septimus."  
  
They finished their meal in silence, but it was like another layer of wall had been peeled back between them and he could see Septimus - no, _Gaveedra_ better now. Despite the circumstances, Julio found himself barely about to stop _smiling._ The future suddenly didn't seem so daunting.

It was night when they stepped outside again and Gaveedra seemed like he had something on his mind. "There is something I've yet to tell you," he turned to Julio. "About my medallion. I -" They both looked down at the sudden sound of clinking and two oddly ball shaped objects rolled under them, spewing fumes that rapidly got denser and denser. Julio startled as he recognized what they were and grabbed Gaveedra, trying to get away.

"Ah shit!" But it was too late. By then, they've both already inhaled a significant amount of the fumes. Julio barely ran two paces before everything went black.


	4. All Aboard the Graymalkin!

The first thing Julio noticed when he woke up this time was that he was horribly nauseaus. The floor under him also lurched and a groaned like it a about to collapse or something. It made his insides feel panicked and twisted up like a tangled knot. He realized he was on a ship. That had to be it, as there were no other places that made him feel so _ill_ just by him being there. As he started process more of his surroundings though, Julio realized he was also very much tied up and bound to someone on the floor of a dark cabin. Well, at least he was _alone._ A quick twist of his head revealed that the person he was bound to was Gaveedra, which further improved the situaion. Having Gaveedra around was starting to feel like a comfort. Julio tried not to think too hard about it.  
  
He tried wriggling in his bonds. Nothing. _Coño._

"If it were that easy I'd have freed us by now," came Gaveedra's gruff tone from behind him. Julio huffed. Figures that'd be the first sentence he'd get out of him.

"Well, pardon _me_ for wanting a second opinion," he groused though he knew Gaveedra was right. Like Julio could forget that embarrasing experience with the lieutenant easily escaping from his first ever attempt at binding someone up.

"You're pardoned." _Oh ha ha._ Julio rolled his eyes. He wanted to kick him. Then Julio heard a very unfortunate sounding _pop_ that make him reconsider, but also just made _everything_ more uncomfortable.

"What was that?"

"My thumb." _Oh great_. Now Julio _really_ wanted to throw up.

Thankfully, or not so thankfully, their captors chose just then to show up, starting with a blond woman about his age with a toothpick in her mouth slamming the cabin door open. "Well, would ye look at that there, I be right on the gold yet again," she smirked at them in English as she rounded up on them, pausing a couple feet from Julio's side at his periphery. She looked pretty, but was _definitely_ not of the well mannered maiden variety. Following behind her, another young man of African looking decent rolled his eyes before stepping up to the two captives as well.  
  
"You wouldn't _be_ here if you couldn't even be accurate with your own poison," he said with an air of unaffectedness, his English laced with a Portuguese accent. Gaveedra, who'd been shuffling weirdly behind Julio since he popped his thumb earlier, completely stilled. More people poured into the cabin and surrounded them, another blond young man in bandana, a young woman with hair as red as Gaveedra's, another older looking woman of African descent with a white patch around her left eye and -

Julio's breath caught. _No._ It _couldn't_ be! No _way_ he caught up to them this fast. "Veranos."

"Oh ho ho, he _knows_ you captain," the Portuguese accented one chirped as Julio glared at Veranos. There was no mistaking him. He looked different though, and the more Julio stared, the more the image felt off. For one, _this_ Veranos' was wearing an eye patch over his left eye, and his right eye was heavily scared with multiple slash marks. He also looked older, or at least, more grizzled than the _El Contienda_ from his memories. As a matter of fact, this whole _crew_ was all wrong either. They were clearly all _pirates_ instead of members of the Armada, and of all things, were speaking _English._ Just what the fuck was going _on_ here?

He tensed as Veranos walked through the parted group and squatted down in front of him. Veranos was a massive man. Julio in his anger and current state of sickness had almost forgotten about that part. It did not help the state of his stomach. "No, I don't think he does," Veranos said as he studied Julio, who was still reeling. Geez, even his _voice_ was different. That didn't stop Julio from spitting in his face though.

"You killed my family," he snarled at him, using English in kind. "I'll _never_ forget your face _El Contienda._ " This whole situation was still baffling and ridiculous, but in annoncing his hatredm Julio realized he didn't _care._ All he that really mattered to him just then was tearing off his binds and killing _El Contienda,_ numbers and available weapons be damned.

The cabin fell silent for moment as Veranos slowly wiped Julio's spit from his cheek, then suddenly burst into full racuous laughter.

"Oh _d_ _eus,_ " the Portuguese one said, almost doubling over in hysteria. "He thinks you're _him_! _"_ He then broke off into another uncontrollable fit of laughter that would've been just unseemingly had she been on land. Julio was stunned for a moment before anger retook him, and he growled menacingly.

"You're _not El Contienda?_ " He deduced incredulously. "Then _quien puta_ **_are_** you?" He wrestled with his bonds again and got even more irritatated when Gaveedra just remained silent and motionless behind him. Julio knew he had to have found a way out of his bonds by now, so why was he not _doing_ anything? He'd be worried if he wasn't so annoyed.  
  
Veranos meanwhile, continued studying him with that inscrutable look. Then he said, "How about this?" Before pulling Julio's compass out from aroud his belt and flipped it open in front of him. Julio clenched his fist and wished with all his might right then that he could punch him. "You tell me where you got this from and I'll tell you who I am." Veranos' tone was oddly steady and sincere. Like he really meant to back up his offer. Julio found his brow twitching as he actually started to consider it.

"That's unecessary." The gunsmith heaved a sigh of relief when Gaveedra, finally _finally,_ spoke up from behind him. However, his elation was cut short though by the words that followed. "You're clearly Natán Veranos, the older twin brother of Caos Veranos, who's been long assumed dead." Julio suddenly found his insides twisting into an uncomfortable knot. _Of course_. He knew that story, he's heard it many times. Talented and ruthless, the Veranos brothers were sent here to the New World together to help cement Spain's hold on its colonies. But Natán died shortly after following a scuffle with the local natives, and Caos continued his legacy by himself. Julio had never thought more of it. He looked at the Veranos in front of him again. Gaveedra was right, there was no other explanation for the striking familiarity. Clearly the story everyone's been told wasn't entirely the truth.  
  
In response to Gaveedra's deduction, _Natán_ only smirked, and _that_ looked like _El Contienda_. Julio suddenly felt the hairs rising along his back. "Not bad lieutenant." He commended evenly. "But if you're trying to protect your little friend here, I need to remind you that we still have you both bound and _surrounded_." His words were followed by the distinct click of several hammers being cocked, and Julio turned to the side to see the eye-patched woman and the others aiming their guns at his and Gaveedra's head. "I know you're fast lieutenant," Veranos continued, still disgustingly like _El Contienda_ , "But you're not _that_ fast. So why don't you stop trying to play _hero_ and let your friend here tell us where he'd gotten this?" It was only then that Julio realized Gaveedra had already freed himself from his bindings, and was now slowly but pointedly popping his thumb back into its joint from where he'd shifted next to Julio. So that's why he was so quite. Guess he wasn't all that still afterall.

Julio didn't like their current odds though, so he quickly cut in before Gaveedra could make the situation worse. "Ok, I'll tell you," he said. "It's not a big secret anyways. My stepmother gave it to me." The gazes on him reamined imploring. "Her name was Maria Richter. Maria Ortega before that. Her father was a merchant and that's all I know. I don't know where she got it." He then tense when only continued to watch him as he reached for his belt again. Fortunately though, it was only to pull out the silver medallion that Gaveedra was wearing. Julio somehow managed to feel relieved and stupid and the same time.

"And this?" Veranos asked. Julio looked between him and the medallion and noticed for the first time that this Veranos _, Natán,_ was also wearing a medallion just like it around his neck. Actually, _all_ of these pirates were.

"You - you're part of the Men of the Fallen Cross?" Julio asked back instead of answering, then immediately felt his throat tighten as he realized his mistake. Shit. His first abduction and it was by the members of the most freaking notorious pirate order this side of the Atlantic. He really had _some_ _luck._ They were _so_ screwed. But before he could amend his answer, Gaveedra cut in again.

"That medallion is from my father," the lieutenant answered with a flat tone. _Oh, well **that** explained a lot. _Julio head stopped reeling in response though, because it was apparently quite done with the surprises. Julio was grateful.

"His name was Longshot," Gaveedra continued to explain as Julio pondered how many internal fights he must've had with himself over his allegiances before he jumped. "He joined your order after the British stole me from him, under the promise that you'd help him rescue me. You failed. And all that is left of him now is that medallion." Julio turned and saw the hardness in Gaveedra's expression. Julio felt his heart ache for him. _Madre de Dios,_ this poor boy's story. "You all owe him a favour for his service and I'm here to claim it." 

_Wait **what?!**_ All of a sudden, he was tense again. He was _not_ expecting _that_ and there was no telling how someone from the order would react to this, let alone a _Veranos._ The could end sooooo badly.

Natán however, seemed to take the request into serious consideration. "I remember Longshot," he said in a matter of fact tone. "What are your demands?" Julio againt felt a mixed urge, this time of relief and wanting to punch Veranos again.

Gaveedra meanwhile was still rubbing at the spot where he'd just reset his thumb, his gaze as determined and fierce as ever. "I want the same thing you gave him," he answered after a quick, almost apologetic look at Julio. "Service aboard your vessel in return for your aid in my mission." Veranos quirked an eyebrow.

"And what is your mission?" Julio inexplicably felt his heart start to hammer.

"I want you to help me kill Mojo."

 _Fucking fuck!_ So, this guy, Gaveedra, wasn't just a deserter. He was...he was freaking revolutionary! Julio had heard rumors of individuals with such traitorous ideas floating around in the British colonies up north before, but damn, he hadn't thought any of it real let alone that he'd meet an individual crazy enough to believe them. And yet...and yet it made all kinds of weird feelings stir up inside Julio as his heart continued to pound in his chest. Suddenly, he felt... _inspired?_ No, that couldn't be it. But he was feeling _something_ about this crazy man and his crazy intentions.

The cabin was quiet for a moment as everyone tried to process what Gaveedra said. But then, to his own surprise, Julio cut through the silence with his own words. "I offer the same if you'll take me," he said with a level of confidence he didn't realize he currently possessed. Gaveedra jerked his head around and looked him incredulously. Julio just plowed on. "But for _El Contienda._ I know you have a grudge with him too, don't you?" He turned to Natán, his eyes imploring. "And I know you think you may have just picked up a random nobody, but I'm actually a _Richter_ and the best damned gunsmith on this side of the Atlantic. Yeah, you know my name." He smirked. "So you know if you take me, you'll not only have the best weapons money can buy, but also the best chance at _your_ revenge too."

Privately, Julio wanted to kick himself for his sudden impulsiveness and burst of ego as everything fell back into silence. It was all _ridiculous_ and he could practically _feel_ Gaveedra holding his breath with him next him as the pirates exchanged glances with each other. This was all folly, stupid, _absolutely_ insanity of them and there was _no way_ that these _pirates_ would agree to that. They were going to get thrown overboard and and and...and least now they'd go overboard _together_ , Julio found himseld thinking stupidly. At least they'd both suffer together for the same stupid mistake...like _that'd_ make a difference. But Julio couldn't not help the small flutter of comfort from those thoughts nonetheless.

Eventually, the silent conversation between the pirates ended and Natán's expression curve into another smirk. This time though, the smirk was somehow _different_ than _El Contienda's_. This time, it looked _warm_ and somehow brightly amused. "So, a governnor and a general huh?" Natán mused to the whistle of the crew. "You two sure drive _some_ bargain." He lifted his hand and the redhedded woman slashed the gunsmith's ropes. Julio, who had expected her to just slit his throat, tried not to flinch. "I sure hope you're worth it, but welcome aboard the Graymalkin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long. I've been having a rough week and this...is not my favourite chapter. I did my best though, so I hope it was enough for you guys. <3


	5. Tolliver the Dead

Julio was bewildered. That was just...too easy. "You're willing to let us join your crew just like that?" He stated, extremely suspicious.

"Well, we ain't about to throw you overboard just yet," the pirate captain returned, that _El Contienda_ like smirk returning to his face. Julio scowled.  
  
"I suppose then Gaveedra and I aren't getting our weapons back anytime soon then? Or my compass?" Natán shot him a deadpan look, then just stalked out of the cabin without another word. It was just about what he was expecting as an answer. He gritted his teeth and glared at the floorboards.

After their captain left, the crew didn't tarry either and quickly filtered out, leaving only the eye patched woman standing over them. There was a long stare off between the three as Julio and Gaveedra slowly got up, but then the woman broke the eye contact and walked over to the corner of the room. She returned after kicking two buckets over to them and shoving two mops unceremoniously at their chests. "You want to be part of the crew? Start with the basics," she told them flatly. Julio ascertained she was most certainly the first mate. "Start here, do the rest of the deck, then you can get below and orientate yourselves to the cabins and you finish there. Any questions? No? Good." And then, before Julio could utter so much as a syllable of protest, she too was gone, leaving him and Gaveedra standing alone in the cabin where they were only momentarily before bound and held captive.

_Alright, so this was actually happening..._

Julio looked over at Gaveedra, but his new friend did not seem to have the same bewilderment with their situation that he did, already starting moving to fill the buckets. Julio just stared at him until he noticed. "It's the same in the Navy," he explained with a shrug. Julio nodded back numbly. _Right. Of course._ How could he have expected differently? The Veranos' crew weren't gong to trust them immediately so of course they'd be relegated to menial labour. One could suppose it was better than getting gutted on the spot though. He sighed and got to work.

As he pushed the mop along the ship's deck, the present slolwly started to slip away with rhythmic lapping of the waves. Now that things had quieted down and he finally had a moment to stop fearing for his life, the pain and grief from the memories of that night back at the smithy started to sink in. The wooden planks he was working on disappeared from under him and memory after memory of his father getting shot flooded his mind along with the screams from his the family back at the smithy. Burning hot tears started rolling down his cheek without him realizing it and he didn't come back into the present until he felt Gaveedra's hand gently squeezing his shoulder. His friend said nothing, but Julio knew he understood. He pulled himself together and started putting his muscle into the work, putting all of his rage and pain into every push of the mop. Gaveedra left him to his grieving.

It took a week before he got his pistols back and Gaveedra his rapiers. Their quiet dedication and persistence despite the menial tasks handed to them quickly got the captain and first mate's approval, then eventually, that of the rest of the crew's. This translated to Julio learning all their names and roles on the ship and to certain extent, befriending them. The first mate's name was Neena Thurman, who they just called Patch-Eye or Thurman, and she oversaw all the day to day operations, the ship's inventory, and their stores of food and water. Julio was weary of her and mostly just submitted to her orders.  
  
Everyone called the blond woman who had smoked them unconcious back in the _Isla del Carmen_ Boom-Boom, and she was their grenadier. Quite apparently, aside from the typical black powder explosives, she was adept at building and deploying a variety of other grenade forms. Julio got along with her the fastest as their overlapping skillsets gave them the most to talk about. He enjoyed prodding Boom-Boom's mind and admiring her many inventions.  
  
The next two whom he easily befriended was the blond man who went by Canonball and the Portugese accented African looking one, Roberto da Costa, who turned out to be from the State of Brazil. The former was, as his name suggested, their artilleries expert. Julio traded many notes with him as well, though Canonball seemed more interested the practical aspects of his works and managing crew morale. He was the third highest in rank on the ship and he and da Costa were two peas in a pod despite their personalities differing greatly. Where Canonball was mild and kind, da Costa was arrogant and devious. The Brazilian and Boom-Boom were the proponents of most of the mischief onboard, and if Julio didn't know that da Costa was also ran expert fighter with his morning stars when he first arrived, that was quickly rectified by da Costa's boasting and posturing. He was indeed incredibly skilled of course, but it didn't stop Julio from rolling his eyes at the man's antics.  
  
The last three members of the crew took Julio a bit more work to get to know, but interacted with Gaveedra much easier than the others. Their names were Theresa Cassidy, James Proudstar, and Caliban. Cassidy was the other red-head on board, a bright Irish woman who was the best shot with any weapon that Julio's ever seen.  
The other two were on watch when Julio first arrived. One was an Apache named James Proudstar and the other was an albino they called Caliban. Proudstar was a Herculean looking man, larger than even Veranos himself, and capable of feats of strength Julio barely imagined possible. He was also the ship's cook, which Julio found amusing to no end. Caliban on the otherhand, was gangly and emaciated looking, though he surprisingly was still quite incredibly strong. Despite being incredibly aversive to bright light, the man was also the ship's navigator. Of everyone on board, he was the one Julio understood the least.

Overall, the Graymalkin had a pretty limited crew for such a large ship, but apparently that was a big part of why Natán had taken them on despite their ridiculous demands. They had recently lost several members. Julio didn't ask for any elaboration on that topic.

His sea sickness hadn't gotten any better over course of their week at sea, but Gaveedra kept trying to make him drink this fowl concoction of gods knew what when Julio showed even the slightest sign of nausea in his presence, so he learned to grin and bear it. Aside from that, life on a ship wasn't the _worst_ experience he's ever endured and even the fact that he was now a _pirate_ eventually settled with him. He had agreed to this and he was determined to see it through, one slow step at a time until he reached _El Contienda._ The world didn't seem to want to him to have any sort of peace though, and a week later, Julio was met with yet another huge, world shattering series of revelations. It came with a call of from the crows nest in the late evening.

"The genesis! The genesis be on the 'orizon!"

Julio had no idea what that meant, but everyone on board immediately responded with annoyed groans as Natán ordered them to start readying their weapons and armaments. It was obvious that they were about to get attacked and by someone they've fought before, but the response was still...odd. Eventually Canonball explained it to him as they readied their canons. The captain of that ship was Natán's son. There was a deep seated grudge at play that he didn't elaborate on, but because of it, for years, the captain of the Genesis, Tolliver, never stopped pursuing Natán and trying to kill him, eventually even submitting himself to the service of his estranged uncle, _El Contienda._

 _And there was that name again,_ Julio gritted his teeth.

"Yeah, it be a mess mah mate," Canonball concurred. "Their family's a jolly mess alright. But I wouldn't worry," he reasurred with a smile. "This here ain't the first time we've beaten ol' tolliver aft to 'is uncle." Julio felt it an uneccesary amount of confidence about such a violent situation, but he nodded along all the same. Hopefully, his formulative improvements to their gunpowder would help them enough. This whole situation did not sit right in his gut, and it wasn't just the sea sickness.  
  
Boom-boom switched out with him shortly before their ships got in range of either other. Julio may have been the expert on the technical end of things, but he couldn't deny that these two had much more experience actually _working_ ths canons than he did. He met Gaveedra back on deck. His friend's rapiers were already drawn, his long auburn hair whipping about in the night wind, and his white shirt was bright against the moonlight just like the night they first fled Veracruz. The sight took him away from the present for a moment, and Julio decided that he was beautiful, especially like this, with battle thrumming in his veins. Dangerous, but ethereal. Julio drew his pistols.

As the Genesis came in range, a large dark cloud passed overhead, dimming their visibility to just the flickers of the torches on board the two ships. It set his nerves on edge more than anything else. The canonfire was a lot louder this close up, and his ears kept ringing as the enemy ship started attempting to board theirs. He fought through it though, and was glad for his familiarity with gunfire then, the cacophony not disorienting him much, his shots remaining steady and sure. Gaveedra meanwhile, danced about the ship like some kind of falcon, so quick and light on his feet it was like he was _flying_. If Julio wasn't so busy fighting for his life, he'd have loved to watch.

The Genesis crew didn't number much more than them, but things quickly turned south when Julio watched as one of the pirates Gaveedra had just _beheaded_ reach down onto the deck to casually pick his head up to stick back onto his shoulders. _What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck!_ Julio almost vomited right then but was forced to stay occupied by the others attacking him. The instance was no mistake of his imagination though as two that he had shot point blank in the head just then where charging him again, the bullets in theirs skulls seeming to only hinder them for moment. Julio had to take to running on top of shooting to try and stay out of range.

"Having fun yet father?!" He heard a blond man yell at Natán as the two parried off some ways down the deck in Julio's periphery. He was almost certain that the man was Captain Tolliver. "Uncovered this little trick on the _Isla de Muerta_. Uncle sends his regards."

Just then, the black cloud that had rolled overhead passed, letting the moonlight filter down onto them again. If Julio had anything in his gut, he was nigh well sure he'd have shat his pants just then. The entire Genesis crew had suddenly turned into living _skeletons_.

This had to be a nightmare. It had to. Something so _unnaturale_ has to be impossible, right? He had assured himself of such, even after the strange circumstances surronding his own birth, because that would mean - he hadn't realized that he'd frozen in a trance until Gaveedra beheaded one of the skeletons trying to impale him and kicked the head overboard.

"Julio, focus!" He shouted. "Now is not the time to loose your wits! We do that and we are all dead!"

 _Right right, of course._ Julio blinked and nodded, as he dodged another attempted slash and put another bullet into another skull. It was completely useless though, so he just ducked out of the way as he let Gaveedra work, rushing to regroup with Cassidy and Thurman, who had similarily been suddenly rendered unarmed without use of their guns. Well, Cassidy at any rate, because Thurman quickly rectified her situation by grabbing an oar and going to town on them with it.

" _Mierda_ they just keep coming!" Julio shouted as he pushed over a barrel and tried to knock a skeleton over. He succeeded and was able to take stock of the situation from his spot on the upper deck with Cassidy. Da Costa, Caliban, and Proudstar were all getting worn out by the constant onslaught as bones shattered and reassembled and shattered and reassembled around them. Natán had taken way too many blows from Tolliver and was at a point of bleeding out, and their ship was barely holding together under the canon fire. The Genesis did not seem to fare any better, but that didn't matter when they crew was just a bunch of _skeletons_ did it? Julio bit his lip. Gaveedra and Thurman seemed to be the only ones left with any leg left in them, but gods only knew how long they'd be able to hold out.

"We need a new strategy!" Cassidy shouted back at him as she knocked another skeleton down the upper deck stairs with the butt end of her rifle, clearly having arrived at the same conclusion he did. If something didn't happen fast, they are going to die out here. Fuck, and they were so damned _confident_ before too.

Julio used a piece of rope to trip another skeleton and throw him overboard before unconciously finding himself darting his gaze back to Gaveedra, internally praying that he was still alright. He didn't know _what_ he would do if Gaveedra wasn't. But then Julio noticed something. Not on Gaveedra's person himself, but just past him through a hole blown through the Genesis' side. He grabbed Cassidy and ran for the stairs. "Hey wait! What're you doing?!"

She followed him despite the rough treatment and they quickly made their way down to the canon deck where Canonball and Boom-boom were working. The Gramalkin had a few ugly holes blown in its side, but thankfully it seemed to be nowhere that could take water just yet. Julio quickly urged Cassidy forwards. "Canonball, we're going to need your slingshot and a throwing bomb from Boom-boom," he told them, then took a quick glance outside before rushing to try to move the centermost canon away from it's shooting window. "We need this out of the way to give Cassidy as clear a shot as possible."  
  
Unsurprisingly, all of them thought he'd lost his mind. "What're ye blathering on about?" Canonball asked as he tried to stop Julio.

"This here one couldn't 'andle the stress an' lost it, Sam." Boom-boom explained dryly and unhelpfully. Thankfully though, Cassidy was ready to listen.

"What do ye want me ta shoot?" She asked, already having pick pocketed Canonball's slingshot and holding her hand out for the explosive. Julio took a deep breath.

"Alright, I'm only going to point it out when it's time to shoot, but I caught a glimpse into their hull from the canon damage," he explained. "And I don't have a lot to go by, so you'll just have to trust that I know what I'm looking at, but they've got all their powder stacked together in there, next to their artillery." He was prepared to explain further but his crew was thankfully just fine at putting two and two together themselves and Boom-Boom was quickly digging out the correct hand explosive to hand to Cassidy.

"So ye want to try to shoot at it an' try to spark the 'ole thin' to go blast skywards?" Julio nodded.

"Exactly. And because we only have one shot at it -"

"Might was well ask the best shot we've got to do it," Boom-Boom concluded with a smile. She seemed impressed, but Julio didn't have time to worry about that as he busied himself rolling the canon aside. Canonball ran to the side and brought over an oil lamp, unshielding it and holding up the flame as Cassidy crept to the side of the window to prepare to shoot. This team was incredibly efficient when they wanted to be, and Julio was beyond grateful. He quickly ran over and pointed out he stack of powder before aside so Cassidy could light the fuse.

"Sorry, I know it's not the cleanest shot -" He was shushed before he could finish so he shushed and waited. They waited, holding their breath as Cassidy aimed for the powder and released. It felt like a eternity before the bomb caught and lit the pile aflame. The Genesis immediately errupted into a huge explosive fireball after that, it's hull snapping wide open before giving in to the sea. Relieved, Julio dashed back upstairs. He passed Boom-Boom, who'd just created a seperate, much smaller fireball that she used to blast a skeleton trying to descend to them into pieces, and grabbed what bones he could and flung them overboard. He yelled at Natán that they were clear to sail again and was immediately granted orders for them to unfurl the sails and _move._ He complied without hesitationg and he helped the others put the Graymalkin back into motion whilst throwing more skeletons overboard.  
  
With the Genesis out of commision, their best strategy now was to flee, so they did. Everyone not busy smashing or slashing skeletons were maning their positions and pushing the Graymalkin back into the wind again. The change in fortune seemed to finally give Natán enough power to throw Tolliver himself overboard, so the crew pressed on, clearning off the stragglers and beating off the ones who'd managed to climb back on until none were left aboard their ship. Then just like that, the night was quiet again.

  
"Barely known you for more than a week and this is the second time I'm stitching you up," Julio mused some while later as he doused Gaveedra's cuts with rum. The former lieutenant once again remained completely stoic throughout the process, not so even flinching when Julio pierced his skin with a flamed needle.

"It is also the second time you saved my life," Gaveedra returned as a matter of factly. "And this time many others as well. When the Captain wakes back up, I hope he'll show you due gratitude for your quick thinking."

"Heh, we'll see." Julio felt himself flush a bit at the unintended praise, and was glad that Gaveedra was insistently staring out at the waters they left behind instead of looking at him.

"This is the second time you've saved mine as well," he shrugged. "And as for the captain, we'll have to replenish our rum stores after they finish taking care of his wounds," he jested, not feeling too keen on lingering on the subect of his relationship with Natán. It's been a week, but he was still not fully sure how he felt about the man. Trust was definitely still an uneasy challenge for him on that front, to say the least. If it wasn't for Gaveedra, he'd have long chosen to fling himself into the ocean than remain on this vessel.

Speaking of... "Gaveedra, would you mind if I inquired a few things of you? We haven't spoken much since we started here." That was mostly Julio's own fault for repeatedly isolating himself to brood over his loss, but he wasn't about to apologize. Gaveedra in fact, he was fairly sure sympathized somehow.  
  
Both of the former lieutenant's eyes were bright when he turned back from the ocean to fix on Julio. "I welcome it. In fact, I also have a few queries to direct at you as well." The gunsmith eyed him understandingly.  
  
Julio snorted. "You want to know why I saved you, don't you?" Gaveedra nodded. "And why I agreed without prompting to join you on your mad quest for revenge?" Another nod. Julio sighed. "Well, for the first one, I'll remind you that I _was_ quite tempted to leave you smashing against the rocks there, but..." He sighed. "But in the end, I suppose Julio Richeter just isn't a man who can idly leave another man to die. No matter who he was." He caught Gaveedra's eyes and the lieutenant smiled. It was warm and fond and made Julio's heart flutter. He turned away and fixed his gaze back on his stitching. "As for the second one, I'd like you to answer a couple queries of mine first." Gaveedra nodded his consent for him to proceed. "Why do you want to kill Mojo?"

Gaveedra tilted his head to the side and looked at him curiously. "He's a cruel and vicious man. Is that not enough?" Julio stared him down.

"But he's also a _governor_."

" _More_ reason to kill him then no? The more power a cruel man holds, the more he can make suffer."

"But it's incredibly hard," Julio rebuttled. "To say the least. Why do _you_ have to it?" Throughout this exchange, their eyes remained locked on each other's, questioning, probing, silently flickering with a yearning neither could describe.

"Because I believe I _can_ ," Gaveedra returned, resolute. "And I do not want to see any more suffer under him. Thus, I must try." His eyes searched Julio's for a moment, then he added. "You are wondering if the rumors of revolt from the colonies are true. And if I am a part of them." He shook his head. "No. I do not know of anyone who genuinely believes a revolt is possible. I simply believe that I can kill Mojo, and I am prepared to do it." Julio just stared at him, and this time, it was his turn to find his expression turning into a fond smile. He went back to stitching.

"Heh. I thought so," he said. "And you're absolutely _mad_ by the way." He shook his head again before twisting a knot and typing up the sutures. "But..." He looked back up and smiled again. "I believe you, believe you _really can_. That's why I asked for the same thing."

"But for _El Contienda,_ " Gaveedra corrected, Julio nodded.

"Did you not want to kill him before for what he did to your family?"

Julio sighed again and looked out at the waves. "Want to? Sure. But believe of the probability enough to voice that desire to strangers? No." He turned to Gaveedra. "You made me believe I _can._ In that one moment back there in that cabin, you stupidly _inspired_ me." It was ridiculous really, but Gaveedra just smiled at him and clapped him on the shoulder.

"Then I will help you with that as well." Julio beamed back at him and put away the suture instruments. He doused the former lieutenant's stitches with more alcohol and gently wrapped him up with bandages. Things fell quiet again for moment.  
  
"Gaveedra?"  
  
"Hm?"  
  
"Have you seen this sort of thing before? This sort of... _unnatural_ occurance?" His friend paused for a moment and frowned.

"Once, but not like _this_. Have you heard of the Flying Dutchman before?"  
  
Julio snorted. "Pfft, who _hasn't?"_  
  
"I've seen it once. Far off in the distance as it carried another ship down into the bottom of the ocean."

"Oh."

"I did not believe in legends before then, but there are a great many mysteries hidden by these dark waters." Julio nodded and said nothing else. A story flitted back to his mind. One his father loved to remind him of a little too much. One about a child born out of a disaster. He shook the thought from his head. Gaveedra didn't ask.  
  
"You really worried they'll catch back up with us?" He asked, looking back over the dark horizon that Gaveedra's been peering at the entire time.  
  
"If they cannot die, then it's only a matter of time."

"Right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so so long to update. RL has not been kind to me as of late so I've not been the most responsible here. Hope this longer update helped with the wait though. I'll try to post the next one soon.


	6. Cortés' Curse

Natán looked to be about a quarter bandages and a quarter scowl when he adressed them all that following morning. The other half of him didn't look all that human either. Julio was honestly half expecting him to limp out on a wooden peg while brandishing a hook where his left hand should be. He supposed he should be happy that their captain _was instead_ in one actual piece.

"I need a summary of last night, and not just your wild exclamations about seeing a bunch of living skeletons," he told them as he hefted himself to sit atop a barrel on the deck. "I saw the flames go up, but I _know_ that was no doing of mine."  
  
"Oh, that there been all Julio, Cap'n," Boom-Boom helpfully piped in immediately. "With Theresa an' Canonball an' me 'elp o' course. Julio been the one who spotted their stock o' black powder an' thought o' the plan." Natán turned and stared at Julio. Julio stared back at Natán. The crew was just silent for a moment.

"Some commendation seems to be in order," the captain hummed thoughtfully. "Perhaps it's time to give you your compass back." Julio's eyes widened slightly. He hadn't really expected Natán to give that back, though he also never understood why the man seemed to covet the unreadable thing in this first place.

"I'd like that," he replied, slightly apprehensive. Natán nodded.

"After this quest then." Their captain then returned his attention back to the crew. "Have any of you noticed a lack a inane chatter this time around?"

"That's right! Wilson!" Roberto exclaimed. "I completely didn't see him around this time. Or _hear_ him. Do you think Tolliver finally got too fed up with him and -" He drew a finger across his neck in that all to familiar sign. Gaveedra frowned. 

"Me neither," Natán returned, choosing completely to ignore da Costa's conclusion at the end of his retell. "Is this the same for the rest of you?" Julio didn't know of any Wilson, so he just waited for the others to respond, and it was a unanimous shake of their heads. This seemed to please the captain though, and he hummed and flicked open Julio's compass. The gunsmith was shocked to see that it had finally stopped spinning for once. Instead, it settled quite steadily on a direction that was decidedly not north. "We may find some answers with him," Natán explained at as he eyed the compass. "That and wherever the _Isla de Muerta_ is. Hopefully he's been there."

Alright, he's going to ask. He was hoping he wouldn't have to, but now he's going to. All this dancing around and - "'e been one o' Tolliver's crew," Boom-Boom explained in a whisper beside him, apparently having read his mind. "Really talkative, but an incredible swordsman." She glanced over at Gaveedra. "Might've even given yer lieutenant there a run fer 'is coin." Julio looked over at Gaveedra and strongly doubted that wager with all of his being. Gaveedra was that best. That was the end of it.  
  
He eyed the compass again as Natán ordered the crew to their posts. It was still locked in that same peculiar direction. Most of the crew had assumed it was pointing to Tortuga, the infamous pirate held island most ventured to for rest and congregation, but after sailing a ways along the coast of the Cuba for a day, the needle's direction dipped more southwards, prompting Natán to order them back around. If the place was south of Cuba from this direction, going around their original route would take much longer. The crew was weary of any reversal in direction, but thankfully, the rest of the next two days passed without them ever spotting The Genesis or its crew. They continued to cruise through the straight between the contested island and New Spain for another half day the before the storm hit.

Now, Julio's been on the Graymalkin for over a week now, but he's been fortunate in that their ship's only seen fair to mild weather so far. This was a _complete_ turnover. He had thought his sea sickness bad before, but _Madre de Dios_ he was not prepared for his. The ship jerked and _lurched_ around so violently, he thought that he'd pass out. Even the simple act of standing upright was out of the question. Natán shouted for them to furl the sails and what have you somewhere in the background, but the only thing Julio was capable of, not five minutes into the tempest, was grab onto the rails for dear life and hurl over the side as sea water slapped him in the face. It was not an enjoyable experience.

At some point Gaveedra came over and tried to coax him from his position to go back below deck, but Julio had attached himself to the side of the ship like a stubborn barnacle and wouldn't hear the half of it. There was _no way_ he was going to be able to avoid being flung into the sea if he let go, he was sure of it, so _walking_ of all things was out of the question.  
  
"Julio, you're being unreasonable," Gaveedra pleaded. "It is unsafe out here. You cannot just attempt to latch yourself to the rails for the entire duration of this storm." Oooh, but he _can_ and he _will_. "Julio!" _Chingada madre,_ he wasn't going to let him be until he agreed was he?

"I can't _move_ Gaveedra," he gritted through his teeth. "I'm am _made_ to be on solid land. That out there? That ocean is going to _swallow_ me the moment I let go." To make matters worse, he and the ship was soaked through between the rain and storm water, so holding on without _slipping_ was becoming more and more of a challenge.

"It will if you try to hold on here until you slip," Gaveedra returned, his tone getting more and more irritated. "That's why we have to go back under deck." He then reached out and grabbed Julio firmly by the wrist. "I will not allow you fall," he promised, his eyes stern but sincere. "Please trust me." The grip on his wrist remained unmoved as Julio looked back at him. The way those two strange and piercing eyes looked at him, it made his heart hammer in his chest. He bit his lip, then nodded begrudingly and slowly let go.

True to his words, Gaveedra did not let him fall. The feat was honestly ridiculous considering how much the ship was being tossed and turned in the waves, but Gaveedra managed it, and soon they were safely back in the crew cabin, waiting out the storm. Julio slung warm sheets around himself as he sat on the edge of his hammock and rung his clothes off into a bucket. Gaveedra did the same opposite to him.  
  
"You will get your sea legs eventually," the redhead tried to reassure him as he got up to hang his wrung out shirt on a clothes line. Julio looked up and eyed his soaked through bandages suspiciously - they will have to be changed, but it didn't seem like he'd reopened any wounds in the struggle.  
  
"Hopefully," Julio muttered as he got up to follow suit. "I still prefer to be earth bound though. Out here it just feels like I've floating on the surface of an abyss, constantly waiting for it to open up and swallow me." Gaveedra smiled then, his expression slightly amused.

"You're very dramatic," he replied wryly. "But if it helps. You are not in fact, floating above an abyss. Beneath the waters is still earth. It may be far, but it still cradles us from beneath."

Julio rolled his eyes. "And you're unecessarily poetic." He knew all that, or had at least assumed so, but it didn't really change how he _felt._ He got back onto his hammock, peeled off his soaked breeches and drawers and threw his blankets back over his shoulders. He had tried to be more modest around the others in terms of his nudity before, but unfortunately, this was just one of those circumstances that did not permit for much modesty. Gaveedra hardly seemed to care though, he was in the navy, Julio reminded himself, so Julio could easily see...everything as the redhead moved around. He tried not to look and tried harder still to tamp down on the responsive heat flooding in his abdomen.  
  
Gaveedra thankfully, was completely oblivious as he sat back down across from him and got back to the wringing. And despite being the one among them covered with a litany of interesting scars, the sailor ended up asking Julio about _his_ body. "That mark at your heart. Is it a birthmark?" Julio looked down before remembering that yeah, maybe there was something weird to look at on him too.

"Aye," he answered with a shrug. On the left of his chest, exactly at that spot sitting above his heart, was a patchily ringed and blotted circle that looked exactly like a jaguar's spot. It shouldn't have been that surprising to see for a man with a star right on his _face,_ but Gaveedra never really behaved as he was as supposed to given common sense.

"It's beautiful," Gaveedra said, his eyes emanating a warmth that made Julio face hot. He ducked his head down and pretended to be intently focused on wringing the water out of his shirt.

  
  
They reached their destination after another two days of sailing. Some small island in the archipelago along the southern coast of Cuba. There wasn't much there, so chances were, this Wilson person was hiding. Julio could see why from their encounter with Tolliver. But with the man's supposed swordsmanship skills and previous membership in the crew, the question remained _why._

"Can't say I've been here before," Canonball mused as they followed Natán, who was following Julio's compass, up onto the shores and further inland. Julio meanwhile, tried not to melt into the sand once they finally touched down on the shore. What he used to deem as loose ground suddenly felt solid under his feet like nothing else. "But it's not an awful hideaway. A lot of breeze, decent sunshine -" They stopped in their tracks when Natán barred them off with one of his massive arms. Julio looked around in puzzlement.

"You can put the gun down and come out now Wade. We're not here to hurt you. Just want to talk." There was distant click from the bushes of what had to be someone cocking the hammer to their rifle.

"Not 'ere to 'urt _me_ , sure! Just 'ere to 'urt someone else I bet!" Came a crackly voice from the bushes. Natán narrowed his eyes.

"We're not here to hurt _anyone_ Wade."

There was silence for moment, then another rustle from the bushes. Natán motioned for everyone to step back as a figure clad in a flamming red tunic and black breeches emerged from the thicket with a rifle leaned held crosswise in his arms. How the man ever managed to remain hidden behind the sparse undergrowth there was a mystery to Julio, and he winced once the pirate got close enough for him to see his face. _Me lleva._ It was like the man had been shoved face first into a tank of hot oil or something.

"Consider yerself lucky I be still willin' to 'ere ye out Natey!” The scarred man shouted, stopping a good couple yards away from them. “With all the grief ye've cause me o'er the years, I outta just shoot ye just fer darin' to show yer face!"

Julio was a little behind Natán so he couldn't really see the captain's expression, but he could've sworn the stern faced giant was smiling when he answered. Was it possible to _hear_ a smile? "Still upset about the crate incident?"  
  
"Ye be damn right I be still upset!"  
  
"Suppose it'd be too much to ask for a favour then."

"Hah!” The man's laugh was cold and contemptuous. “Ye know 'ow to dream big arr, mate, I'll give ye that. But do ye a favour?" The rifle was suddenly pointed right back at Natán's head forcing to Julio to quickly recall that it was never uncocked. "I'd sooner end ye first." At this point, everyone sprung back into arms, swords drawn and guns pointed at Wilson, but Natán again waved them all down.

"I know you had a falling out with Tolliver," he said.

"Oh, an' 'ow'd ye figure that?"

"By the fact that you're no longer part of his crew, that you're hiding on this island, and that there's a frightened child hiding back there in the bushes." Julio jerked his head back in that direction. He hadn't seen a child. And he still didn't see one. But Wilson for some reason lowered his gun.

"Alright, I be listenin'"

"If you tell us what happened to him and how to defeat him, we can get rid of him for good."

Wilson snorted. "Ye'd ne'er 'ave the 'eart fer it or ye would've a 'undred times o'er by now.” Then they stared at each other for a long time before Wilson spoke again. "If ye really mean it, I can tell ye the story. But I be comin' with ye. To make sure the job gets done, ye get?" Natán frowned, but he noded, once, solemly. "Then ye 'ave a deal. Oi Ellie! Ye can come on out now!" Julio gaped for a moment as a small child about the age of six or seven crawled out from behind the undergrowth. So Natán was right. He looked over at Gaveedra and wondered if his friend had seen her too.  
  
"So I take it this one's yours?" Natán asked as the child scurried to hide behind Wilson's leg.  
  
"Yarr an' if ye so much as try to touch 'er, ye loose yer 'ead."

"Hn, fair enough."

They settled around a camp fire a little ways up from the beach. Theresa and James took to playing with the child while the rest of the crew gathered by Wilson. For a man who supposed liked to talk a lot, it took a while before the red clad pirate to start, and he kept shifting his gaze between the crew and the girl. It was obvious that he cared about her. Finally, he said, "So, this here problem ye be 'avin' with Tolliver. Does it look somethin' like this?" He then unceremoniously shoved his hand into the flames. Everyone watched as his skin seared and blackened inside it, but then, just as soon as Wilson pulled it back out, everything quickly knitted back together again.

"Yes, that's the problem," Natán confirmed.

Wilson chuckled. "Then I take it yer crew still 'aven't found the Isla de Muerta eh? Seems like yer kid beat ye to somethin' after all." Natán said nothing. "'eh. Anyways, if ye be thinkin' now that this here 'as to do with the treasure there, ye'd be right. It be the same tale they keep tellin' us about Cortés' gold." Wilson then dug into his collar and withdrew a gold chain, upon which was attached a skull bearing gold medallion. Julio and Gaveedra just exchanged confused glances at each other while the rest of the crew frowned.

"The legends didn't say anything about you not dying," Roberto interjected, "Only that anyone who takes from the chest would -"

"Be damned fer eternity? Well 'ow do ye think they make the eternity part 'appen?" Wilson shook his head and again turned his gaze to his daughter. "Aye, the livin' be just the part o' the curse that keeps ye bound, with a noose around yer neck pulled just tight enough that ye keep chokin' without dyin'. Then the damnation be that ye feel nothin'. No pleasure, not from grub, drink, 'eck even fuckin'. Ye be to live out the rest o' eternity miserable an' insane. A 'usk o' a man, a mere ghost with skin." He looked balefully into the fire, and Julio almost found him to be sad.

"So what is this legend exactly?" Gaveedra asked, his expression still puzzled. "Who is this Cortés and how exactly does this all tie together?"

Wilson shot Natán an unimpressed look - apparently this story was supposed to some kind of common knowledge among pirates. But it was Thurman who ended up explaining. "The Cortés they're speaking of is Hernán Cortés, the conquistador." Julio tensed immediately, he knew _exactly_ who that was. Gaveedra remained oblivious though, so Thurman continued. "He massacred untold thousands of the former Aztecs lieutenant," she drawled irritably. "At one point during his conquest, the Aztecs delivered to him a chests of eight hundred and eighty-two pieces of gold, pleading for him to ceased the slaughter." She pointed to Wilson, _"That_ is one of those pieces. Because Cortés was greedy and continued the slaughter anyways, the Aztec gods placed a curse on it and all the other pieces in that chest. The same curse we had just discussed, for anyone who dares to take a piece from it."  
  
Julio rubbed his temples as he tried to take that all in. He hadn't heard about _that_ horrible tale, and it made his stomach churn. At the same time though, witnessing the truth of that legend and realizing that the Aztec gods were behind it had flashbacks of his childhood flying across his eyes. _They are still here_ , he realized in disbelief and vindication at the same time, a hand over his heart. _And they're still listening._

"So to kill Toliver, we must lift the curse," Gaveedra summarized thoughtfully, pulling them back onto task and Julio out of his toughts. He looked at Wilson. "I'm assuming you know how."

"To lift the curse, you only need to return all the gold pieces to the chest," Natán said.

"An' offer with it the blood o' the takers," Wilson added gravely, with a long gaze at his daughter. "We've already been cursed too long. Our own blood is no longer real."

"So that's why Tolliver attacked us," Julio concluded. "Because he couldn't get to you and..." He looked over at the young girl who awas playing with Caliban now, "...and Ellie, that's why he -"

Wilson barked out a loud laugh. "Oh, no no, it wasn't just that there." He slapped the captain on his shoulder and snickered to himself. "Nah. See what 'appened there been, 'e tried to plead fer 'elp from _El Contienda._ Course, old Strife wouldn't 'elp nobody that couldn't 'elp 'im."

"So in order to get my brother's blood, Tolliver had to deliver him my head," Natán surmised exasperatedly.

"Exactly!" Wilson cackled at that, but everyone else just eyed him wearily. "But 'e 'ad a darn 'ard time beatin' ye afore, so the bastard decided to try to go after me lass first. And here we are, full damned circle." It was at that moment that the little girl chose to run over and hug the scarred pirate's leg, calling out 'papa', almost chidingly. Wilson chuckled and picked her up, putting her onto his lap and patting her head. "So ye see now Natey? If I agree to 'elp ye with this deed 'ere, Tolliver _must_ die."

Natán looked at Ellie, then nodded once, solemnly. "Understood." He held out a hand to Wilson, and the two shook out a deal. There was something oddly unspoken that went between them, but Julio couldn't quite put his finger on it. Hopefully, it wouldn't be anything relevant to him or Gaveedra.

After dropping Ellie off with a long trusted caretaker friend of Wilson's, the crew followed Wilson's directions toward the Isla de Muerta. True to his word, Natán returned his compass to Julio following their departure from Wilson's island and the gunsmith's been fiddling with it ever since. Natán had gotten the thing to work somehow, so it wasn't _broken._ Julio just had to figure out how the captain managed to make it function. The compass seemed to be able to point in the direction of an object, something the user could determine uniquely, but in his hands it just spun round and round, no matter what he seemed to do with it. The only exception though, Gaveedra. The thing seemed intent on proving that incident back on the Isle del Carmen to be not a fluke, as when it ever _did_ pause, the former lieutenant was the only thing it'd settle on, sometimes even following the man around the deck, to Julio's immense irritation.

Was that it? Did it just locate people? Eventually, he had to give up cause the stupid thing was making him _think_ too much about things he did not want to think about, so back into his vest it went. Gaveedra thankfully, never quite caught on this strange development, and only occasionaly smiled at Julio when he found him following him with the compass. _That_ now he _really_ didn't want to think about.

They sailed through a couple more storms before reaching their destination. Julio thankfully faired better with them than the first, but he was still nowhere near getting his sea legs though he had managed to drag himself down to the cabins before his mind freezed up on him this time around. Then _finally_ , after another three weeks of sailing, he heard Wilson call out, "Ahoy! There it be! The Isla de Muerta!"  
  
Too glad to be finally able to get on solid land again, Julio rushed to help furl the sails and prepare the ship for mooring. He practically jumped off the deck itself to slosh up onto the island's shores. Gaveedra barely held him back from breaking his legs. The crew, having finally reached what the everyone considered to be a turning point, was also in a lively mood. But everyone's humour dissipated when they rounded onto the entrace to the treasure's cave and saw the twenty some familiar faces there waiting for them.

"Hello again father," Tolliver smiled.


End file.
